


Aunt Ginger

by Enochianess



Series: Dirtiest white boy in America [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Aunt Ginger, Beginnings, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Affection, Brothers, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Related, Fights, Gang Violence, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Mickey Milkovich deserved so much more, POV Mickey Milkovich, Pre-Relationship, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Season/Series 01, Smoking, thugs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:58:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4262475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enochianess/pseuds/Enochianess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 1 Episode 3 - Mickey focused</p><p>"Ian Gallagher! You messed with the wrong girl!"</p><p>Mickey was pissed, but not surprised, when Gallagher ran like a pussy, rather than stand up and fight. Men didn't run and hide in fucking closets. That's what girls and faggots did. He didn't want to think of what his dad would do to him if he'd been Gallagher. If he ran like that, his dad would probably beat him to within an inch of his life, and then some.</p><p>You back down from a fight, you show weakness. You show weakness, you bring shame, you destroy reputations.</p><p>In this neighbourhood, reputation was everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aunt Ginger

**Author's Note:**

> I can't get enough of Mickey Milkovich and I don't think his side of the story was explored enough on the show, so I'm writing his story canonically episode by episode and adding and expanding upon the scenes as I see fit (And yes, this does include smut, because their kiss and sex scenes were virtually nonexistent). All the works will be named after the episodes in the show.
> 
> I'd really appreciate your feedback on this because I want to make sure I'm writing Mickey as accurately as possible. If this is going to be as good as I want it to be, I need to quite literally become him for a couple hours a day.  
> Feel free to contact me: http://enochianess.tumblr.com
> 
> *Gives you the bird because we're in the shameless fandom and this is the best way of expressing my affection and love for you all*

Mickey was smoking on the couch when Mandy ran into the house, the front door slamming shut behind her, her makeup smudged over her face. He'd been there all day, watching Segal movies and playing video games, just like he'd done the day before, and possibly even the day before that. He couldn't really remember anymore. The days just seemed to blend together. He'd do a run with his brothers here and there, head to the Alibi every few days to get shit-faced, maybe saunter around the neighbourhood just looking for someone who he could fuck with. He didn't even have to do anything to scare the kids round here. They were already frightened of him, like it was ingrained in them. He could just imagine what their parents would say.  _Stay away from the Milkoviches. Did you hear what Terry's in the can for this time? I've heard the youngest kid killed a guy last year._

Mickey had never killed a guy, but it was important that people thought he had. That was how he made Terry proud. That was how he staved off the beatings.

Mickey had a reputation to uphold. If he screwed that up, Terry would make sure to teach him a lesson. 

"What is it? Drag queen Wednesday?" Mickey asked with a snort.

"Shut up, fuckhead!" She snapped back with a snarl, her hand flying out to steal the cigarette from between Mickey's lips.

"Hey, hey, hey! Get your own fucking smokes, bitch."

"Piss off. It's not like you paid shit for them. You probably pulled them from the store on the corner again." She said as she fell down beside him.

Mickey clicked his tongue in annoyance, but didn't even bother refuting it. Of course it was true. When had a Milkovich ever paid for anything? When had Mickey ever owned enough cash to buy cigarettes? They were poor as fuck. 

"Who'd you need me to take care of?" He mumbled after a moment, his eyes fixed on the television, his face passive. He didn't even notice as he began clenching and unclenching his hands, exercising the knuckles, warming up the joints.

"Ian Gallagher." She spat. "The fucking perv tried to rape me."

Mickey turned, eyebrows raised. "Since when do you say no to a dick?"

Mandy punched him in the shoulder, stubbing the cigarette out and pulling a beer from the six-pack on the table. 

Mickey gave her a smirk, but inside, his blood was boiling. No one hurt his little sister. Fucking no one.

It was time to call his brothers. 

  

"Hey, hey, hey! Tony! No fucking guns!" Mickey yelled, his arms thrown out emphatically.

"Huh?" His brother grunted in reply. "I thought you said we were taking care of Gallagher?"

"Yeah, _taking care of him!_  Not putting him six-foot under! Holy fuck..."

"So... crow bar?" Tony asked hesitantly, brows furrowed.

Mickey ran a hand over his face. "Shit- fine. Whatever. Let's just get outta here."

Tony and Jamie rolled their shoulders back and stretched their arms, cigarettes hanging from their mouths. They were glad to dispel some of that violent energy that had been building within them all day. It made them restless, antsy, almost nervous. It'd always been that way.

  

Ian was stocking milk cartons when Mickey stormed into the Kash 'n Grab, all guns blazing, with Jamie and Tony in tow.

 _"Ian Gallagher!_ You messed with the wrong girl!" Mickey hollered, his face lit up by the prospect of a good beat down. This was what he knew. This was what he was good at.

"Shit!" He heard Ian mutter faintly.

Mickey was pissed, but not surprised, when Gallagher ran like a pussy, rather than stand up and fight. Men didn't run and hide in fucking closets. That's what girls and faggots did. He didn't want to think of what his dad would do to him if he'd been Gallagher. If he ran like that, his dad would probably beat him to within an inch of his life, and then some.

You back down from a fight, you show weakness. You show weakness, you bring shame, you destroy reputations.

In this neighbourhood, reputation was everything.

"Come 'ere!" Mickey yelled, his anger building when his thick-set body collided with the locked door, the heel of his hand pounding against it.

"Get out here!" He demanded, throwing his bodyweight against the door. "Mandy told us what you did, you piece of shit! Get out here!"

"He's gone." Kash murmured quietly, his eyes wide and his hands shaky. Mickey hadn't even noticed him. "There's a door in the back of the storeroom." 

"Alley." Mickey ordered his brothers, his eyes flicking meaningfully between them, his finger pointing to the entrance. "Alley!" 

Tony and Jamie ran out obediently. Mickey may have been the youngest and the smallest Milkovich brother, but he was the brains behind every fucking operation. His older brothers looked up to him, followed his orders. They needed him to lead them. Hell, they were too fucking dumb to make decisions for themselves. Only Mickey was smart enough to pull all their shit off. It was a miracle they weren't dead already.

Mickey grasped the neckline of Kash's shirt and yanked him forwards, close enough so their noses were practically bumping together. "Tell fuckhead, this is not over!" 

He span on his heel and ran after his brothers, knocking over the stack of crates on his way out, because he was a little shit like that.

He'd only got as far as the corner before he decided to turn back; he had to make sure the threat was clear. He swung the door wide open, a smirk stretched cockily on his face when he noticed Kash stepping back nervously. _Fucking pussy_.

Mickey grabbed the first thing that caught his eye, lifting it to his mouth and tearing the top of the packaging off, before spitting it at Kash. He waltzed back out with a shit-eating grin. 

  

"Can you stop stuffing your face for five fucking seconds please?" Mickey grumbled, eyeing the greasy burgers his brothers were practically inhaling. "We got a job to do."

"A man's gotta eat, Mick." Jamie mumbled around a mouthful of food.

Mickey rolled his eyes, downing the rest of his whiskey. "Yeah, well- we gotta find Gallagher. I wanna get this shit over with so I can head over to Angie's."

He'd been banging her once or twice a week for a while now. It got him off and was a nice change to him jacking one out in the shower, but it didn't do a whole lot for him. He knew what that meant. He knew what he was. But he wasn't ready to admit it. Hell, maybe he would never be ready, not even to admit to himself. He figured if he kept fucking Angie, eventually that'd make him normal, make him want it. He couldn't accept that he'd spend his whole life waking up, sweaty, panting, boxers stained with come, because he'd been dreaming of some faggot pounding into his ass. No, he couldn't accept that. Terry's sons weren't gay. Mickey was not gay. 

Tony smirked, his eyebrows wiggling. "Angie, huh? Didn't know you were fuckin' her too."

"Everyone fucks Angie. It's practically a right o' passage round here."

"I fucked her yesterday." Jamie said with a nod, ketchup now smeared on his chin.

"Yo, me too!" Tony exclaimed, sticking his fist out to bump it against Jamie's.

"Ah, fuck." Mickey muttered. No way in hell was he fucking her now. That was just all kinds of wrong. 

 

Mickey sneered at the sight of Lip Gallagher walking down the sidewalk with Karen Jackson. He wouldn't stick his dick anywhere near her. Fuck knows who she'd been banging. 

He stepped out, flanked by Jamie and Tony, with a snooker cue in his hand. He was itching to fight. He'd been waiting all day with no pay off, and now he didn't really care who he hit. Mickey had to set an example of a Gallagher. Lip would do until Ian resurfaced.

"Hey, yo!" He called jovially. "Hey, got a B+ on that English paper you wrote for me."

"Well, spread the word. Could use the business." Lip replied, his eyes drifting between the brothers. "I heard they're letting Iggy out of juvie."

"Yeah, yeah, Mom drove up to go get him. Throwing a party for him or some shit this weekend."

He wanted to throw up at just the mention of his mom, but he wouldn't give Gallagher the satisfaction. He still couldn't work out how the cops had tracked her down in the first place. Mickey sure had never been able to do it, no matter how hard he tried. And he'd tried. He couldn't count how many times over the years he'd roamed the Southside streets, desperate to find her, desperate to find a parent that wasn't Terry. But crack-whores were hard to find, and if he was being honest, Mickey didn't really want to see what was left of her. 

"Probably back in before then, yeah?"

"Haha, probably." Mickey chuckled shortly, turning serious in an instant. "So, Ian messed with Mandy."

"Ian?" Lip turned to glance at Karen.

"Yeah."

"Well, that's, uh... That's highly unlikely."

"That's what Mandy told us." Mickey said.

"Well, trust me, you got the wrong guy."

"Right. Problem is that Ian's been avoiding us all day, and, uh... someone's gotta get a beatdown 'til we find him." Mickey shrugged. Gallagher knew the drill.

Lip clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, his eyebrows rising. "You could make an exception."

"Not really, though." Mickey said, his lips pursed.

"Well, maybe- uh- Mandy's confusing Ian with any one of the other four hundred dudes in the tenth grade she's already blown."

And that was it. Any self-restraint that Mickey may have had, immediately vanished. He knew his sister was a slut, but nobody had the right to say it, especially not to his face.

He lurched forwards, his arm jolting forward to hit Gallagher in the balls with the cue. He knocked his elbow sharply into his chest, sending Lip to the floor, the toe of his boot slamming into his ribs. Then, he really let loose, jamming Lip with the pew again and again. His brothers were quick to join in on the action, kicking him harshly from either side. 

They ran off, laughing, finally feeling free from that emptiness that gnawed inside all of them. 

It was the only time Mickey felt anything. Anything besides that all consuming hopelessness and fear.

  

Mickey was leaning casually against the concrete post, cigarette held limply between his fingers, when Kash finally emerged from the store and began locking up.

"Where's firecrotch?!" He called, Jamie and Tony still on either side of him. "Hey! Kash and Grab?"

Kash stared at him silently, his eyes not leaving the three of them whilst he clambered into the white van.

"He's only making it worse." Mickey shouted. "Okay, okay! We're gonna find him."

It was fucking cold. Tony hadn't said anything for the past half hour now, just shivered and grumbled until Mickey punched him in the shoulder. Meanwhile, Jamie had done nothing but complain. So, it wasn't exactly surprising when they both sighed in relief when Mickey began to walk away. 

"Hey, Kash and Grab!" He called again. "Tomorrow. When your shithole opens." 

No way in hell was Gallagher getting away unscathed. Mickey would chase him to fucking Mexico if he had to.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I do not take credit for the dialogue from the show; I have simply used it to aid my own story and exploration of Mickey.  
> The credit for those parts goes deservedly to the writers.


End file.
